


Cirque de Marionnettes

by Madin456



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Circus, Gen, Puppets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 20:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17230538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madin456/pseuds/Madin456
Summary: The circus appears overnight, suddenly and without warning.





	Cirque de Marionnettes

**Author's Note:**

> For Ginkochama, who asked for something dramatic with symbolism and double meaning. I hope I followed the prompt okay! Happy holidays!

The circus appears overnight, suddenly and without warning.

No one knows exactly how it came to be. One day, it doesn’t exist; the next day, it is simply… there. And after that, it’s all people can talk about, rumours rippling throughout the town in the form of hushed whispers. Advertisements spread by word of the mouth is far more effective than large, bolded text printed on posters and this is evident when, soon enough, there is a crowd of spectators beginning to form at the entrance.

Machi is among them, one of the many curious people lined up in front of the gates. Beyond the metaphorical boundary that separates the circus from the rest of the world stands tall tents striped in black and white. And one streak of dark, crimson red. This pattern can be seen throughout the entire place, repeated over and over again on the surfaces of all materials: black, white, and a single splash of red.

As Machi approaches the gateway, she notices that the circus doesn’t accept any payments; they are simply handed what looks like a regular playing card to act as tickets for each customer who walks through. Machi takes the card with intrigue, the image of a joker displayed on hers. Like everything else here, the picture is printed in monochrome.

She doesn’t realize that the edges of the card are sharp and not rounded until she feels a sting on her fingertip where the corner has pricked through the outer layer of her skin. A single drop of blood smears the paper and while she scolds herself for being careless, she admits that it is almost fitting. Black, white, and now—red.

Without giving it any further thought, she slides the card into her pocket and continues walking deeper into the circus. There are too many concession stands to count and too many attractions available for the guests so Machi chooses one at random, walking into the first tent that catches her eye. The sign beside the tent reads:

KALLUTO THE ILLUSIONIST

When she pulls back the fabric, the only thing inside is a table and a young boy standing behind it. There is already a crowd of spectators forming a circle around the table and Machi walks over to join them. Kalluto, who wears a black kimono, pulls endless strings of paper from his sleeves and folds them carefully into dolls the shape of birds. Lining them up in rows on the table, he pays no mind to the hushed murmurs from the audience surrounding him.

Throughout this, Machi finds herself slightly disappointed when Kalluto does not move after twenty minutes, does not speak or even acknowledge anything other than the paper dolls in front of him. And yet, somehow, the way he moves so purposefully with his gestures evidently deliberate has everyone in the room captivated.

Kalluto makes a total of fifty birds displayed in five rows of ten, each one perfectly identical to last. He takes the time to tap every single one on both wings before stepping back.

For a moment, the air is still and nothing happens.

Then, the birds begin to unfurl their wings in unison, lifting off from the table slowly in a way that makes it look as if they are simply hovering. But soon, it is clear that they are truly airborne when they start to scatter around, a flock of crafted dolls maneuvering on its own will.

Perplexed, the audience’s gaze follows them as they roam from one corner of the tent to another and back again. Machi looks for strings attached to the birds, clues that might show it’s only a trick of the light, but does not see any. It is as if Kalluto has actually given the paper dolls the ability for flight.

She gasps when one of the birds lands on her shoulder for a brief moment before fluttering off again. It joins the rest of the flock as they swirl above her head.

 _“Fly free,”_ Machi hears a voice that can only be Kalluto’s. The audience claps in astonishment, but when the paper birds fly away, the young boy is nowhere to be seen.

. 

As she leaves the tent, Machi’s mind is still reeling with what she just witnessed. The sign outside had labelled Kalluto as an illusionist, but Machi knew that what she had seen was no illusion—it _couldn’t_ be, and yet, she is unable to think of any other name to describe the animated way those paper birds had taken flight. As if they could truly breathe and flap their wings, as if they were _alive_.

Exhaling, she forces herself to divert her thoughts elsewhere. There is no point in pondering on the logistics of Kalluto’s act. After all, this is a circus and there’s meant to be some form of magic to the performances, whether real or not. As a spectator, her job is simply to be amazed.

Machi walks along the road for a few minutes to take in the buzz of excitement around her, watching as young children drag their parents with them eagerly to the various attractions. A little boy in front of her dives into the tent that happens to be right next to Machi, with a sign that reads:

ILLUMI THE CONTORTIONIST

She shrugs and follows after the boy. Inside, there is a proper stage this time, and rows of seats where the audience can watch the show, each row elevated higher than the last so that no one is at a disadvantage. Machi sits near the back beside a couple who are whispering to each other before the performance starts.

It’s dark here, the only light coming from a few candles scattered around the edges of the tent. There seems to be movement near the stage but Machi can’t make out any distinct figures even when she squints. Fortunately, a spotlight turns on just a second later, shining down brightly as a person walks out from behind the curtains.

He walks to the center of the stage holding a small wooden box, painted black and white to match the theme of the circus. Placing it on the floor, he takes off the lid and balances it on top of his head, wearing it like a hat. Then, he steps inside the box, and the act begins.

Illumi bends his legs, one in front of him and one behind him, as he takes a seat in the small space. The sound of his joints cracking echoes loudly throughout the tent and it must be painful to keep his limbs in that position but the expression on his face remains neutral, no indication at all that his body feels anything.

Twisting his arms in unnatural ways, he somehow manages to squeeze them into the tight container, bones seemingly to be completely broken and disfigured. The audience winces with each cracking joint, but they continue to look on, unable to deny their interest in a man who can fit inside a box less than half his size. Finally, when Illumi lowers his head, the lid is once again attached to the box, sealing it shut.

As it clicks into place, the entire box turns red in colour.

. 

The sun is just beginning to set now but Machi decides to stop by one last performance. This is said to be most popular spectacle, the very act that inspired the name of the circus.

HISOKA THE PUPPETEER

Although there are more people inside this tent, the space is also bigger. Machi enters just as the lights dim, the man named Hisoka already preparing for his show. He wears a suit and stands on stage like he commands the entire circus. Unlike Kalluto and Illumi, he has a presence that he doesn’t try to hide.

“Now,” Hisoka declares, spreading his arms out wide, “dance for me!”

He moves his fingers as if they’re attached to the strings of marionettes, and at first, Machi is confused because she doesn’t see any puppets anywhere for Hisoka to control. It only looks like he’s waving his hands around to a tune that no one else can hear.

But then she feels a tug on her right arm and she looks down to see it being lifted upward. She tries to lower it back down but finds that she has no control over the limb anymore. Her arm ascends and doesn’t stop until it forms an arch over her head. Next, her left arm follows suit, both hands almost touching to create a circle just above her. After that, her whole body is spinning, rotating in pirouettes on her tiptoes with balance that she didn’t even know she had.

Eyes wide, Machi attempts to resist the external force that’s pulling her along. She notices that everyone else who had entered the tent with her is also swaying as if their bodies are rebelling against their minds. It’s as if they’re being manipulated like—like _puppets_.

She snaps her head in the direction of the stage immediately. Hisoka stands there, arms still extended, with a smile on his face that almost seems malicious. He’s looking right at her when he moves his hands to the left just as Machi’s body jerks in the same direction involuntarily. When he flicks his wrist up, she jumps and feels herself gliding through the air before landing right in front of another man, another victim of this twisted puppet show.

Hisoka makes her take the man’s hand, and together, they move in sync with all the other people in the room who have also been paired up. There’s a soft melody playing in the background now, a slow ballad that dictates the rhythm of their movements. The dance they dance is too meticulous, too perfect, following only the will of the puppet master.

Eventually, Hisoka jumps down from the stage, a conductor among the orchestra. With a quick gesture, Machi finds herself being pulled toward the puppeteer. Hisoka twirls her around and dips her back just as the song ends on a high note.

When the music fades, Machi realizes with a gasp that she is free again. Whatever strings Hisoka had attached to her have disappeared and everyone around her is scrambling to leave the tent. She would run too if Hisoka wasn’t still holding onto her, if he wasn’t watching her like a predator observing his prey.

He jerks her toward him and they’re uncomfortably close when he asks, “That was a wonderful performance! Would you like an encore?”

“My ticket only covers one show,” she replies as calmly as possible, ignoring the urge to flee and hoping that Hisoka can’t hear her heart beating wildly in her chest.

“Now that’s a poor excuse.” The puppeteer winks, glancing down at her pocket where Machi kept the playing card she received when she first entered the circus. “After all, you’ve already paid in full.”

She doesn’t know how Hisoka knew where she put her card or even what _paying in full_ means since she hadn’t paid at all, but there’s something unnerving about his entire character and every instinct in her body is telling her to _leave_.

“It’s late,” she tries again. “I need to get home.”

Hisoka leans back and sighs dramatically before sending her off with a knowing smile. “Of course, it would be rude of me to keep you here. But I have a feeling that we’ll see each other again very soon.”

She only nods before turning around and making her way toward the exit. Hisoka may have his tricks but he’s no fortune teller; Machi doesn’t plan on coming back if she can help it.

 .

 .

 .

The circus appears overnight, suddenly and without warning.

Machi is here once again, an overwhelming feeling of dread washing throughout her body. She stands by the entrance, not as a customer this time but as the vendor selling tickets. When the next person in line comes up to her with a coin in his hands, she feels her head shake without instructing it to and silently hands him a playing card in exchange.

The man takes it and she watches him inspect it, watches him prick his finger on the sharp edge, watches the red liquid smear over black and white.

 _Run,_ she wants to say.

What comes out of her mouth instead is, “Welcome to the Cirque de Marionnettes. We hope you enjoy your stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](https://chaasiu.tumblr.com/)


End file.
